


It's Another Day

by eatyourwords



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, a dollop of angst, a dose of a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:52:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatyourwords/pseuds/eatyourwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Larry Stylinson: whirlwind romance is only real in the imaginations of fans, but Larry Stylinson: best friend duo is alive but not quite well. The strain of toning down their friendship for cameras finally gets to Louis, and somehow the two Larry Stylinson ideas meet somewhere in the middle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Another Day

It's a Tuesday when something feels off.

We're lounging in the venue's green room just before a show. Our little haven remains the eye of the last minute show preparations no matter what city we find ourselves in.

Liam is spread out over a couch, his phone propped up to text Danielle or maybe to play Angry Birds, but if history shows anything, Dani and him are exchanging texts sweet enough to rot a few good teeth.

Over in the corner chair, a snapback stolen from Niall's suitcase is propped low over Zayn's eyes as he sprawls out, light snores sneak out each time his lungs expand.

Maybe we should actually be worried about how much that boy sleeps, but the thought is swept away when I recall the rather invasive physicals before the signing of our contracts. They would have caught it if something was off. I breathe easier, but a memory takes ahold of me before I can grapple onto anything else.

It was for our safety out on tour, Management assured us, but even then, we all knew better. We didn't say it, of course. We were all too dazed from the everyday chaos that quickly became our lives, but at the back of our minds, there was a tiny niggling, a niggling that whispered that they cared about their investment, not us, that all they did was to prevent their investment from running out prematurely, that they could care less if there was a lurking illness or injury as long as the money continued to pour in.

I had to hand it to them, they were smart to protect their investment. It certainly paid off. Here we are, five young lads, backstage at a sold out arena, dressed prettily and made up for the stage lights and for the thousands of screaming fans awaiting us. We are money makers, but right now, we're just five guys caught in the lull before backstage jitters but after the anxiousness in the makeup chair has dissipated. We're pretty much free to do as we please.

Niall, of course, is pleasing to spend the time at his customary spot in front of the food table. Light disapproval noises escape him when nothing is greasy or hearty enough for his Irish tastebuds. He grabs a handful of something because he's Niall, and food that is free is food that is welcome in his stomach.

I am sitting on the other couch with a scrolling thumb on my ipod. Searching for new music to get into is a tedious process, sure, but there is so much music waiting to be explored that the task never feels as boring as it should.

Zayn lets out a particularly loud snuffle, and it breaks my gaze. I glance up, catching Louis's eye, and that's... weird.

Not the locking eyes part, that's an everyday occurrence for anyone in these close of quarters, let alone with Louis, but the animosity behind the gaze? That's new. That is definitely new.

At first, I'm mostly convinced that it's a game. Nothing in recent memory comes to mind to would warrant a stare like that. A game is the only plausible option, just the latest in the list of impromptu games Louis engages without letting anyone know when it's starting or what the rules are.

I waggle my eyebrows a bit in his direction, and instead of responding with his own ridiculous expression or breaking into a laugh, he drops his gaze and wraps his arms tighter around the knees he's got pulled up to his chin.

He looks so small in that moment that I'm a second away from getting up and asking him what's the matter, but an assistant comes bustling into the room and announces that it's nearly time to get to our places.

Liam puts his phone away, humming under his breath and reaching over to lightly shake our resident sleeper into consciousness, but Niall's already bounded over and playing pattycake with Zayn's cheekbones. Zayn lets out a disgruntled mewl, a bear awoken from hibernation, batting hands away with only one eye cracked open. Niall and Liam smile and laugh heartily at the boy's sleep slurred ''m up, 'm ups's.

Looking at them, I feel a rush of affection for the five boys I was thrown into a band with. 

I search out the fifth member's gaze, wanting to share the moment with someone, momentarily forgetting about the weirdness from a minute prior, but when my eyes find him rooted by the door, his arms are wrapped tightly around his torso, his eyes resolutely on the floor, and nothing about this picture looks like my best friend.

Louis should be clapping the boys on the back, spewing something along the lines of, "You lads ready to show this town what we're made of?" because that's what Louis does. He might have the worst nerves of the five of us, but he works through them by focusing on soothing our own nerves.  A big brother attribute, I have always thought, but that is not who he is in that moment.

"Lou," I call quietly but loud enough that I'm positive it reaches his ears.

He's my best friend, and more words could form themselves on my lips, but they don't. After all this time, they really aren't needed.

He looks up at me, and after a moment suspended in a searching gaze, he drops his arms and smiles.

I politely ignore the way the smile doesn't reach his eyes and how the right side doesn't go up as far as I know it can, as far as it normally would. He's smiling again now, and that is what's important. 

I assure myself with thoughts of homesickness or an off day. Everyone has them. Nothing to worry over.

Except I know that Louis doesn't deal with his off days this way and never has before.

I bump shoulders playfully with him on stage, and the smile looks as it should. By the end of the show, the incident's left my mind completely, pushed out by cheers and screams and glare of the stage lights.

* * *

It's a Thursday when Louis makes it clear that something's off.

The morning started out as an early one. A morning talk show interview kicked off the day with a mini performance. From then on, it'd been non-stop interviews and signings.

We had been split off into one-on-one interviews (except Liam and Zayn who were wrangled into a who-knows-who-better game for a radio station). 

I am perfectly relaxed after mine's wrapped up. The brunette was kinder than most, and sure, it is always a bit more pressure being the sole recipient of questions, but it's always a more peaceful affair without the synergy of the other boys.

Louis, however, is the direct opposite of calm when he stomps into the room deemed today's home base.

He stops short at the sight of me and growls, honest to god,  _growls,_ (ugly lip curl included) and spits, "You."

"Me?" My voice pitches with alarm.

"Yes, you." He continues his approach with the same hostility that he entered with but manages to cuddle up into my side on the couch in the least happy manner possible.

"Um," I clear my throat, unsure of how to handle this. Tentatively, I rest my hand on his back. He doesn't throw or bite it off. I am unimaginably grateful that he allows me the contact.  "Should be concerned?"

He snarls again into my shirt, mid-nuzzle. "They brought up Larry again." I muffle a laugh behind my free hand. While, sure, I let rumors affect me the most, Larry Stylinson is the ever present thorn in Louis's side.

"So you growled like a rabid dog because them asking is clearly my fault." I try to keep the amusement out of my voice, but he evidently catches it, sitting up and pushing away from me. The glare is back, and I try not to miss the growl.

"I am in an arranged relationship because management was worried by how far fans were taking this whole thing, so yeah, I'd say it's a good deal your fault." And that? That stings because Louis  _knows_ that I offered to take that bullet, fought long and hard to do so, but the powers at be were convinced that I already had the womanizer persona, so it was left up to Louis to be the guy with the steady girlfriend. 

"My fault?" I exclaim, incredulous. "We've been through this before, Lou. I am sorry that they take any interaction and spin it out of control, but it is not _just_

Louis growls a third time, lower in his throat than I knew him to be capable of, and stands up. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Do I?" I fire back.

"Yes," he insists, stalking back towards the door. "God, we don't even get to--" He stops slightly in his tracks, looking at me with wide, wide eyes before shaking the rest of the thought off and bolting towards the door.

I stare at the place where his back disappeared, breathing hard.

We don't even get to _what_ , Louis?

* * *

It's a Friday, midway through a full band interview the next day when I figure out what he was on about.

I woke up that morning from a fitful night's rest, still worried that the sudden tension between the two of us would mess up the show's dynamics.

We've fought before, of course we have, but it was always about something trivial, something that could be fixed easily enough.

Back home, our problems were solved if Louis could learn to clean up the bathroom when he was finished with his ridiculously complex hair regimen or if I could learn not to shove my socks into the depths of the couch. Simple problems, simple solutions.

But this? This was not simple.

Our relationship left to its own devices proved easy from that first meeting in a public restroom. It was easy when we were two kids clowning around in the X Factor house. It was easy in every moment where it was just the two of us, but it was far from easy when it wasn't.

When we first got wind of the fan reaction, we were confused but had laughed it off without much thought. I didn't admit it to Louis then or any time since, but I was a bit pleased that I could even have that level of friendship that could be misconstrued in that way. I'd never had a proper best friend until I met Louis, and that therein probably laid half the problem. 

When we had our first two-on-one meeting with Management, well, we got a bit concerned. It wasn't anything major then, just one of the assistants calmly asking us if we could tamper down the open displays of affection in front of the cameras, pointing out an image clause in our contracts. She rushed to assure us when we exchanged a worried glance, that she didn't want us to ignore each other or anything because our friendship created Buzz, she said like that, capitalized and important, but it'd be better if we weren't so blatant about it.

We shrugged and agreed easily. We were still so young and didn't think it'd be too hard.

Apparently, it was though.

It's ironic, really, that that meeting sparked a little daring flare in my gut. I started staring after my best friend trying to figure out where the fans were coming from with their supposed proof. He was good looking, all of us were in a certain way when it came down to it, but why would I want him as more than a friend?

Well, I began seeing the draw. It was the little moments that started piling up, the way Louis did this or told that joke, the way he was just such a fucking good and loyal person. They were things I had known already, things anyone could know about him, but they started becoming important to me in ways they hadn't been before.

Louis eventually got called into a one-on-one sitdown, and I was rung up about a certain lady wanting to spend some time with me.

That was the start of EleanorandLouis and the beginning of my parade with a list of girls that was not nearly as long as the tabloids made it out to be.

Louis fixed on a brave face, and I accepted my role soundlessly, not daring to make a big deal now that there was grounds, just a tiny bit, for such precautions.

There was another meeting where we were asked not to sit next to each other in interviews where possible, but _don't be too obvious about it,_ they added hastily. 

I was asked to quit getting 'construable' tattoos. No one ever sat down and asked me about the meaning behind those tattoos as if they were afraid to know what truth was behind them. Even Louis just chuckled and murmured, "Another fit of rebellion, Hazza?" after the fourth one

He had turned away too quickly then, but I would've answered and told him that It was less about rebellion and more about not losing sight of myself in the chaos.

The whole thing put a strain on me, a strain on Louis, a strain on the string of Modest! Management employees who got more anxious with every meeting as they tried to maintain the balance between us being close friends and the fan fueled idea of something more.

We managed to work through it, the frustration, with little direct acts of rebellion.

Sure, we would do this, this and this, not drape over each other during interviews, not make prolonged eye contact, but if I felt like attacking Louis's neck mid interview to demonstrate how the band gives love bites to one another, then I would, and if Louis wanted to play along with Sugarscape and discuss how sensitive we were to each other's 'needs', then I would be right there behind him, pushing the undercurrent of veiled innuendo.

We'd have a good laugh about it afterwards because we didn't actually _do_ anything that couldn't be cataloged as boys being boys, and we knew that at the end of the day, he belonged to Eleanor and not with me.

I was resolutely fine with the arrangement, as fine as anyone _could_ be in that position; it just didn't occur to me how upset those limitations made Louis. 

As I said, we were in a band interview, huddled on a couch as per usual in some foreign country. Today, Liam was playing the part of a human divider between me and Lou, and Niall and Zayn were pressed up against each other at the opposite end of the couch.

We were off on some stupid tangent when Niall put a playful hold around Zayn's neck. Liam kept prattling along with a more serious response in answer to the interviewer's question, but Louis absolutely deflated. One look at the pair, and he was just gone, completely checked out, and my heart broke for my friend in that moment.

I got it. We weren't allowed to do that, and even if he didn't return my feelings, we still couldn't showcase our easy friendship in those terms, and it was a hard thing to put up with day after day. 

The rest of the boys noticed which is both better and much, much worse.

They always sided with us on the whole ordeal, and over time, they had a sensitivity to our plight ingrained in them, but Niall couldn't pull away without being obvious about it or showing their hand to Louis which would invariably make him feel worse.

The interview ends, and while Louis bounced back--he always manages to bounce back-- the boys look after him like they can see the physical crack in Louis's armor. Liam claps my back like  _go on then_ because this is my territory. Louis is my territory.

"Lou." I brush a fingertip on the sleeve of his jacket when all I want to grab his head and force him to look at me. He shakes his head and shrugs off my hand.

 _"Lou,"_  I persist, and he gives in, staring at me with a rattled look in his eyes.

"They don't even allow us that." The anger in his voice from the previous day is nothing but a memory now. "All this effort for- for  _nothing."_ He steps away, off to the tour bus or just some place that isn't here, no, some place that isn't _with me_ and all the restraints our mutual presence brings.

I am frozen to the floor. It appears I got my answer.

We don't even get to be friends anymore.

I'm withdrawn, Louis's withdrawn, we're both withdrawn for the rest of the day, but when you're in an international boyband with things to do and people to see, that just means you don't spring to answer questions with that extra enthusiasm, and your signature loudness is just knocked down from obnoxious but still at an unreasonable height.

The whole band walks on eggshells, but no one attempts to break the tension.

* * *

It's the same Friday after the show when we break.

We're all hyped up and basking in the band's camaraderie as we step off the stage. Experiencing a shared adrenaline rush makes us forget the cautious looks we exchanged before stepping in front of the manic crowd.

Liam and Zayn lead the group, shoving each other on the way back to the dressing room. Niall's dodging stagehands to keep in step with Paul and convince him that pizza would really benefit the band while they both know he just means his stomach.

I look around for Louis--really, when aren't I anymore?-- when something solid barrels into me and pushes me through an open side door.

"Lou?" The furrowed, angry eyes are back, but they're filled with intent this time as he reaches up to clasp his hands around my head. "What are you--" and suddenly, I'm being kissed by Louis Tomlinson.

The fantasies of thousands of fangirls are destroyed in that instant.

Nothing about that kiss is good. It's angry and barbed and poisonous and nothing that I want. I push him away forcefully.

"What was that?" I spit out. The storage room we landed in is loud with our heaving breaths. We're squared off, and the room is crackling, and Louis starts speaking.

"Aren't you sick of it?" Before I can even think to ask what he's on about, he's barreling ahead. "Aren't you sick of hiding something that's not even true? Well, I say we give them something to hide. I know you've thought about it before," he averts his eyes a bit in embarrassment,"-about me in that way." He meets my gaze and raises his eyebrows, regaining confidence. "You're not exactly subtle, Harry. And- and we sacrifice so much just to keep them happy when we don't even get to reap the benefits of it! We deserve it, don't we? We want it, and we deserve it, so just- just why not? Why the fuck not? What are we waiting for?"

"I-" I know I should put up more of a fight, really, but- "Yeah, okay," I get out before I'm crossing the divide to pull him in for a kiss.

It is all that it should have been the first time around: smooth, warm, and alive.

Louis must not have expected that response because he hesitates a moment before returning the kiss with more vigor, and his hands flutter a bit before clinging to my sides.

Who knows how long that moment stretched in that beautiful dark room, but Louis breaks it, pulling back softly.

"You're just saying okay?" His voice is pitched higher than he would normally allow.

"You-" My voice cracks, and we both laugh a bit as I clear my throat. "You just went on a rant to convince me, and now you're looking a pig in the mouth." I shake my head at him.

"Haz, that's not how the saying goes," he laughs, his mouth brushing against my skin. "I think this is one of those things where we have to just man up and talk about it." His voice comes out quiet, and when he gently pushes me away, I don't fight it.

"Alright, we talk all the time. We can talk about this." I sit down on the tiled floor, trying to slow my pulse. He joins me a step or two away.

"So," he claps his hands.

"So," I return.

This, I think wildly, is probably why we hadn't broken sooner. It was this conversation.

"You're my best friend," I start.

"Right," He agrees quickly.

"Who I want to kiss sometimes." I mumble, peaking at his reaction.

"Yeah," he breathes.

"Which you knew." It comes out more of an accusation than I'd like to admit.

"I did," he confirms, and if I could focus on anything that wasn't this conversation or my heart racing at a thousand beats per minute, I would probably laugh at how ridiculous this is.

"How long did you know?" I whisper-ask. If we're airing this all out, there's no point in being coy.

He takes a deep breath. "Probably around the time I realized I wanted to kiss you too."

"And is that long?" I angle myself more towards him.

He exhales loudly. "You've got to understand- in the beginning- I was with Hannah and- you were such a damn flirt- I just attributed it to the rush of our new life, of new  _things_ I didn't think much on it-"

"But then?" I press.

"But then we were off tour in a flat we shared, and I already had a new girlfriend, and- and you were happy. I couldn't upset the balance then by just going for it, and then they made us move out, and we lost so much opportunity then, I just kind of pushed it out of my mind. There wasn't any reason to until-" he trails off.

"Until?" I prompt.

"Until I couldn't take it anymore. I barely even had you as a friend with everything going on."

"Okay."

"Okay?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"I mean, it's kind of been the same for me too. It wasn't- not in the beginning, but then I wasn't allowed to have you, and it just wouldn't go _away_."

"Yeah," he breathes again.

"Can I kiss you now?" I inquire. My lips still tingle from the press of his, and the desire to make Louis's cheeks flush blooms in my abdomen.

He grins, eyeing the door speculatively. "They'll probably come looking for us soon."

"They think we're sorting out our argument right now."

"Ah, well then, I suppose we shouldn't waste time."

The words are barely out of his mouth before our mouths meet once more.

* * *

It's a Monday afternoon when we tell the boys.

Well, no, not exactly.

Niall walks in on us, blushes furiously, and sprints off.

When we find him, all articles of clothing in place and accounted for, he's red-faced sitting in the other end of the couch from Zayn.

Zayn, for once, is awake and impressively alert as he catches sight of the hickey blooming Louis's neck.

"Oh," he drawls through a smirk, looking back and forth between us and our flustered band mate.

Liam's looking as confused as ever, and it's ridiculous that he gets the smart reputation when the only thing to fall from his mouth is a dumb "wha-?"

"Harry and Lou-" Niall starts but loses his nerve, eyes impossibly wide and head shaking at the ground.

Zayn chuckles at the big question mark across Liam's face.

Having enough of this, I pointedly reach over and interlace my fingers with Louis's. Not to be outdone, Louis draws up our hands and brushes his lips against my knuckles which really would have been much sweeter if it weren't for the competitive, lusty glint in his eye. Louis is still the same old Louis even if the night before he confessed how completely smitten he with me. (I won that round, though, with a cheeky grin and an 'I love you.' He was a bit too preoccupied after that to mind losing.)

"You finally did it, huh?"

"Yeah." My faces splits in a grin. We really did.

"No fucking in my bunk or where I can see it," Niall half-shouts, breaking the warm atmosphere.

It appears he shocks himself out of his trance, and we all end up laughing and in a hugging mass of bodies on the ground.

Whatever our worries were, they appear to have been for nothing.

With the boys around us and Louis's lips against my cheek, everything is golden.

* * *

It's a Saturday when the story breaks.

We were so good about keeping it under wraps.

We were so good for so long.

We had years of practice, you know.

We were careless just one night.

We got caught in New York after celebration of our fourth studio album release.

We were careless.

We wage a yelling match across a Sunday morning conference room.

We argue about whose fault it is.

(We were both at fault.)

We make up because that's what boyfriends, best friends, HarryandLouises do.

We instruct Management not to pay off the guy.

We do so with wholehearted support from the boys (and a bit more reluctant support from Eleanor).

We do not back down.

We were done denying ourselves the truth.

We were done denying the boys the truth.

We are now done with denying the truth to the world.

We wave goodbye to empty corridor kisses and fake girlfriends.

We face the lightning storm of cameras.

We clutch each other's hands.

We kiss.

We go home and unplug every electronic we can find and kiss assurances into each others skin.

We venture out into the world side by side because that was the point, that was always the point.

We accept the support with wide smiles and sincerest gratitude.

We handle the hate we fretted over in equal stride.

We go home and tangle together like we did way back when we were boys foolish enough to believe the want would go away.

We fall asleep trading lazy kisses like we do because we are together, we are safe, we are loved.

And now?

We are free.

**Author's Note:**

> So that was my first oneshot. Whew. We all survived, yes? Superb.
> 
> Any feedback would be lovely!


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